


Maybe A Party Wasn't The Best Idea

by expolsion



Series: Peter + Arto [2]
Category: Counterpart - sara_holmes, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, again a fic of a fic so ????
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Party, Sensory Overload, guess who's back on their bullshit, its me, lil shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 13:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14165412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expolsion/pseuds/expolsion
Summary: Peter + sensory overload at a party = no fun for anyoneand a lil shippy thrown in there because i was feeling the vibes in this chiles tonight





	Maybe A Party Wasn't The Best Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sara_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Counterpart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659452) by [sara_holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes). 



> yikes this probably wasnt great, please lmk about any mistakes!!! its 3:30 am
> 
> they're like 16/17 ish in this

Arto’s eyes widened as they approached the house. It was wild, all flashing lights and loud music, and he was pretty sure someone was already passed out on the lawn and it was only 9 o’clock.

“Dude, are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked. 

Peter turned to look at him. “Honestly? I’m not sure. But I was actually invited, so I guess we’re going.” He said with a shrug. “By the way, thanks for coming with me. I don’t think I could’ve done this alone.”

“Sure, no problem.” Arto replied absently, distracted by a loud splash coming from the backyard, followed by cheers mingled with a horrified scream. “I think they just threw something into the pool. Possibly a person. Or a TV.”

Now Peter looked slightly worried. “Well, at least it wasn’t me.” 

At this point, they had reached the front door. Peter bit his lip, probably regretting his decision. Arto didn’t say anything, just waiting. After a few seconds, Peter muttered a barely audible “fuck it” and wrenched open the door.

 

* * *

 

It was even worse inside. Somehow, most of the teenagers there already seemed drunk, and the mass of bodies in such a small space and the club music blasting from speakers set up throughout the room made him feel claustrophobic. Peter waved to someone across the room, and turned to Arto to say, “I’m gonna to say hi to Liz. I’ll text you in a bit, okay?” Arto blinked at him, as if to say, ‘bitch, really?’, but Peter was already halfway across the room. Great, now he was alone at a party where he didn’t know anyone. Fucking thanks, Petey. Whatever. He headed towards the kitchen, hoping the food would be in there. Who knows, maybe he’d meet someone interesting. 

 

The snack table was depressingly lacking. A bag of tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa. The rest of the table was taken up by various bottles of alcohol, and Arto noted that there was probably more on the floor than in the bottles. He grabbed two plastic cups and filled one with salsa and the other with chips, then went to find somewhere quieter, because he didn’t really feel like eating near the couple that was nearly fucking by the fridge. Before he left, he grabbed a bottle of some fruity drink from the table. He couldn’t get drunk, but at least it tasted good.

 

He managed to find a corner of the yard that was mostly dark and deserted, and from there he just watched. There were some of the less wild kids playing Cards Against Humanity at the table on the patio opposite him, a table in the pool (so that’s what made that loud splash before!), a bunch of still-clothed people splashing around in the pool, and a girl in tears leaning against the garage talking to her friend. He pulled out his phone and sent a snap to Peter of him looking bored with half a chip hanging out of his mouth. Chewing on the chip, he captioned it  _ ‘where the fuck did u go’ _ . He hit send, then tossed his phone face-up on the ground in front of him. The black screen taunted him. Fucking bitch. He was probably making out with that Liz girl. Arto tensed his jaw, unsure why the image of Peter with some girl made him so upset. Then he remembered, OH, it’s because Peter fucking LEFT HIM at a party where he DIDN’T KNOW ANYONE. Whatever. He could make friends. He picked up his phone and threw the cups in the nearest garbage bag, then headed over to the table playing Cards Against Humanity.  “Hey, you mind if I play?”

 

* * *

 

 

About 30 minutes into the game, Arto’s phone lit up. And kept lighting up. The kid next to him nudged him and said, “Bro, you sure you don’t need to get that?”

“Nope,” Arto said shoving it into his pocket. “Who’s judge this round?”

“You,” Someone else chimed in. “And how are you not fucking slammed right now, you’ve been chugging that shit all night!” They asked, gesturing to the bottle Arto had grabbed from the kitchen. 

“Uh, I don’t know.” Arto said, slightly panicked. “Actually, this is important, I have to go. Sorry, thanks for letting me play!” He grabbed the bottle, and nearly knocked over the table in his haste to leave.  _ Well, _ he thought,  _ might as well go find Peter now. _ He pulled out his phone to find 9 unread messages from Peter. 

**dude**

**where r u**

**lowkey freakin out rn**

**ARTO**

**please**

**im sorry i left u**

**im in the upstairs bathroom**

**jsut**

**please**

Arto bit the inside of his lip, concerned. 

_ dw, omw _

He fought his way to the staircase, already done with dealing with drunk teenagers for the rest of his life, even though it had only been an hour at most. He opened a few doors before he found the bathroom, and wished he hadn’t seen some of the things he had. But he finally found the bathroom, and he closed the door behind him. Peter was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, looking like a goddamn disaster. Arto dropped to a squat so he was level with Peter, and put a hand on each side of his face. “Oh, Petey, what’s goin’ on?” He mumbled. 

Peter took a deep breath. “Too much. Everything.” He was obviously having trouble speaking, but Arto got it. Sensory overload, combined with the alcohol he could smell on Peter’s breath did not equal anything good.  

“Yeah, okay.” He stood up and held and arm out to Peter. “Come on, let’s find an empty bedroom.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter staggered into the room, and sat down next to the bed, back to the backframe and knees to his chest. 

“Uh, okay.” Arto said, running through his mental checklist of things to do to during a meltdown. He shut went back out into the hallway, and after a minute of searching found a linen closet. He grabbed the heaviest blanket he could find, and ran back into the room. He shut off the lights, and gave the blanket to Peter. 

“Not as good as a weighted blanket, but hopefully it will do the trick.” He whispered. Peter just nodded mechanically in response. Arto sat back on his heels, opposite Peter, watching. His phone buzzed in his pocket, prompting him to go  _ oh _ and pull out his earbuds and give them to Peter. “Here.” he said, holding out the earbuds while plugging them into his phone. He pulled up his music app and typed in  _ cherr _ , and hit the first result—“Cherry Wine” by Hozier. It was a nice quiet song, one that had helped Arto many times in the past. The soft, strong voice mingled with the gorgeous tones of a guitar and a few birds chirping always managed to chill him out. A few seconds into the song, Peter started to visibly relax. Arto relaxed too, crossing his legs in front of him and leaning back on his hands. If he was honest with himself, he liked the view. Peter looked tired, but relaxed. He had his eyes closed and his breathing was evening out. They were just lucky it hadn’t gotten to the point of hyperventilating yet, that would’ve taken upwards of an hour to calm down from. 

 

Peter ripped the earbuds out when the song finished, his movements rough and uncoordinated. “I’m…” He started. His face screwed up in a look of confusion, as if he forgot how to speak English. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He nodded, pleased that he managed to get that out. 

Arto looked at him, exasperation written all over his face, and said, “Yeah, you’re drunk. We’re leaving.” 

“Aww, Arto, but Lizzzz!” Peter tried to protest, dragging out the ‘z’ in ‘Liz’ for far too long. 

“But nothing, we’re leaving. You’re fucking wasted.” 

Peter made a frowny face at him. “And how are you not,” he trailed off into a hum. “Not wasted? Either?” 

“Serum shit, remember?” Arto replied as he hoisted Peter up off the floor. “Ugh, come on, dude, I know I can carry dead weight but I don’t LIKE to.”

Peter whined a little, but straightened up a bit. “Mmm, yeah the serum. Seeeerum. Serum, serum, serum.” He started to repeat the word, saying it differently each time. Yeah, Arto was definitely done dealing with drunk teenagers for a long time. “The fucking SERUM, man!!!” Peter exclaimed. “It’s not fucking faiiiir… You already LOOK like Captain America, y’know, ‘cause you got the same genetics, and you’re fucking stacked!! Too damn hot. Too goddamn hot.” 

Arto blushed, but he didn’t reply. “Sometimes,” he continued. “I just want to fucking—” 

“Okay, I think that’s enough for now.” Arto cut in. “We can, uh. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Peter hummed his assent.

“Alrighty. We’re gonna to try going down the stairs now, are you ready?”

Peter nodded. “Okay.” Arto said. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took them much longer than it should’ve, but they eventually made it out to the sidewalk in front of the house. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna call Clint to pick us up—”

“No!!” Peter just short of yelled. “Uh, please don’t I don’t want an adult to see this this could be really bad!” He said all in one breath. 

“Whoa, chill out.” Arto said, reaching out to put a hand on Peter’s arm. “I’ll call an Uber, it’s fine.” 

Peter relaxed, starting the mechanical nodding again. Arto figured it was probably a tick he had, when he got too overwhelmed or freaked out. Kind of like rocking back and forth, but more localized. “It’ll be fine, okay? You can even stay at my place tonight, if you’re worried about May.” he soothed.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Peter muttered. 

“Okay.” Arto took out his phone and plugged in the address into the app. “It’s on it’s way, we have about 3 minutes.”

Peter looked thoughtful for a second, then lay down on the grass. 

“No, stop—Peter!” Arto said. He pulled Peter up by his arms. “No, you can’t lie on the grass. You can only sit, got it?” 

Peter looked mad, but reluctantly nodded his assent. He sat on the grass with his knees up to his chest and his chin resting on his kneecaps, waiting patiently. Arto joined him on the ground and waited for the car.

 

* * *

 

 

2 hours later, they were finally settled in Arto’s room. May had been texted, Peter hadn’t thrown up, and the other adults didn’t seem too concerned about anything the boys were doing, so Arto counted them in the clear. Peter was passed out on the air mattress, leaving Arto with quiet. Perfect for thinking. Thinking about Peter. Peter said he was HOT. Peter said—well, fuck.

 

**Author's Note:**

> whoops anyone hmu @genderfluid-jaredkleinmann on tumblr i like counterpart maybe a BIT too much


End file.
